Salem
by Jarody
Summary: The town of Salem is plunged into lies and deception and those vital to maintaining the stability of the town slowly begin to fall apart.


Franklin Anderson took but a step out of his front door before the wave of snow outside had forced it shut. On any other night, that might have been the end of Anderson's venture outside. But no, not tonight. Lives were at stake, and they weren't worth risking over an old man's fear of a snowstorm. On his second attempt, throwing his body weight onto the door with all his might, the door flew open. Franklin took a second to take in the snowstorm. The pitch-black night sky was shielded by a wall of white. Franklin's already poor vision rendered him pretty much useless in the white fury, a mere puppet to the ice-cold hands of the snow. He lifted a man's standard lamp in front of him, and while the glow was mostly inferior to the storm, it still provided an artificial eye for Franklin to navigate through. The lamp seemed to lighten and darken at will, as if it were speaking, as if it were saying "turn back! turn back now!". Nothing would stop Franklin tonight. He was and will always be the finest Doctor in all of Salem, even if he was far past his glory days. Most people of his age would-be lying-in bed, counting the seconds go by until the clock of death stops ticking, but, being skilled with medicines and healthcare, Franklin knew all the tricks to remain in good shape until his last moments. He was so good in fact, that nearly every resident in Salem was his patient, and without him, many would have succumbed to seemingly fatal injuries and deadly diseases. He was the golden heartbeat of Salem. He was pure, rich, and loved by all. God's help Salem when that golden heartbeat stops.

Franklin passed through multiple streets, his sheer will enough to resist the oncoming assault in front of him. In one hand, he held his talking lamp, and in the other, a black briefcase covered in a layer of snow. As he travelled his way through the endless maze of Salem, lights in homes began to decrease in number, before eventually, all that remained was Franklin, the Snowstorm, and the darkness. Though, just as the lights began to die out, as did the snowstorm. The snow began to fall gracefully rather than with force, and the wind caressed Franklin's face instead of attacking it. Most would have been relieved. Not Franklin. His expression was now one of dread and worry, rather than pain. His breathing wisped quickly in front of him, and his heart was beating right out of his chest. _Keep going _he thought to himself, _you must keep going_. Though, as he moved deeper and deeper into the outskirts of Salem, for the first time in his life, he became reluctant. An evil demon in the back of his mind, whispering. _Let them all die_. _Who cares about them? What have they ever done for you_? Franklin never thought himself capable of saying such things, but then again, no one man in this world is pure, even those who've seemingly blocked out all evil.

Franklin was close now, and as he became closer the balance of honour and reluctance began to shift in his mind. Every ten steps the evil demon in his mind was poisoning his thoughts. The white dust in the air was now powerless, and the endless abyss above it was now visible. Though, the night sky was never truly an abyss. The moon and stars kept stability at night, counter-acting the darkness surrounding them with bright rays of hope. There were no sign of the moon and stars tonight however. Just black. And somehow this made Franklin feel even more alone.

A few more heavy footsteps, and Franklin stood before his destination. A white and brown house, with a wooden door. Just like it's neighbours. Just like every other house in Salem. There was nothing special about this house, so therefore many thought there was nothing special about its inhabitant. Franklin knew otherwise. Urgently, Franklin knocked on the door, pounding on the splintering oak, while the demons still told him to turn back. "Milton!" he shouted. "Milton! Open this door right now!". He continued to pound on the wood until his hands began to no longer feel the ice in the air. There was still no answer. Franklin stopped for a second, and contemplated his options. He stood, thinking as hard as he could, for a good minute, muttering the whole time. Then, in a flash, he dropped his suitcase and lamp, before taking a run up and smashing into the door. Splinters ruptured his skin and he roared in pain. Blood was fleeing through his shoulder, though he noticed he was now sitting on a hard-wooded floor, rather than the white dread on the pavement outside. Ironically, it was now the doctor himself who was in need of medical attention, as the blood fled his body as if it were an elk running from a wolf. He lifted himself to his feet, clutching his reddened shoulder as tightly as he could, and grabbed his black briefcase. He moved through the household, leaving a trail of pain behind him. "Milton! Hold on Milton! I'm Coming!". He climbed the stairs with great difficulty, it was certain his life was going to be much shorter now. It was if he was aging with each step he took. The whole house was shrewd in darkness, though Franklin seemed to know exactly where he was going. He heard scratches and whines as he reached the top of the steps. _No, not now _he thought. _I'm so close_. He entered a large room on the left, and gasped at what he saw. In the centre of the darkness, a creature, curled into a ball, shaking. It wore ragged clothes, and had teeth as sharp as a needle. Franklin looked out through the window, and realised he was too late. The abyss was no longer an abyss. The moon had come out to play. But Franklin would not give up just yet. Even if these were going to be his final moments, at least he lived them knowing he tried to do the right thing. He kneeled down beside the creature, still clutching his arm, and opened his briefcase. It was full of medical equipment and bottles of medicine, though most of it was useless to Franklin right now. Reluctantly, he let go of his shoulder to pick up a syringe, filled to the brim with a shining, yellow liquid. "Fight it Milton" he shouted. The creature, shaking, was now less hairless than it had been when Franklin had entered the room. In fact, it was covered in hair, and this made Franklin's job increasingly difficult as he attempted to find a vein in its arm. "Fuck it" Franklin cursed, before lifting the syringe and bringing the sharp end down into the hairy arm. The creature made an ear-piercing shriek, enough to shatter a thousand glasses. Suddenly, time began to move a lot quicker. The creature swiped out at Franklin, sending him flying into wall, and leaving his chest open and exposed. It now was equipped with razor sharp claws on both hands and feet, and the hair had run its course around the body and grew thicker until the skin was now longer visible. It was screeching and shuffling around, so much so that it was almost impossible to see what was happening to it. Then, without warning, the creature stopped still. It rose, and yet it didn't ever seem to stop. Its hairy arms were now as thick as a man's torso, and its legs were enormous and muscular. Though, the most terrifying thing about the creature, was its face. It was that of a dog, yet much more malicious. It had rough fur and the devil's dark red eyes. The creature finally stopped rising an inch before the ceiling, and it stood before the dying Franklin, a 10-foot formation of evil. Franklin couldn't turn away, the clock ticking slower and slower. God's help Salem. The golden heartbeat of the town had finally stopped beating.


End file.
